


Intention

by msimamizizam



Category: Midsommar (2019)
Genre: Character Death, Exploration, Gen, Mother is given unofficial name, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19775806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msimamizizam/pseuds/msimamizizam
Summary: A small study of the moments leading up to that night at the Ardor's, and what one of them might have been thinking.





	Intention

The night was not dark and stormy, though perhaps if it had been, it would have made my life easier. I could have said I never heard anything. Instead, the sky was clear, and a small pale half-moon shined its light in through the window, casting a glow over my wife’s hair. She’d left it out of curlers and let it pool like grey smoke around her head. 

I was sure it was just her sacrifice for the night, one of many. After a fight, we both wanted to be the first to bed, the first to harrumph and turn our back to the other. She’d won tonight, as I had not forgone brushing my teeth- though by the uncomfortable scratchiness on my face if we fought again tomorrow, I would have to shave earlier if I planned on winning. 

In the dark, I looked over at her. Outside the door, our youngest was pacing, eventually succumbing to whatever was pulling on her and going down the steps. Perhaps the call for a midnight snack. I knew I felt it, but I’d wait until she came back up. 

“Hmph.” June shifted her position aggressively and stole more of the blankets. She was clearly still aggravated, but the piss and vinegar had left me completely. Instead, I reached across the bed and the divide between us to put my hand on her back. 

“I’m sorry,” I started. She stilled and didn’t shake me off. “You’re probably right, you know. About the cars. We’ll look at the budget tomorrow and fit them in.” 

“What do you mean, ‘probably?’”  _ Here we go again, _ I thought to myself, as her voice pitched up in a sharp point to stab at me. She pulled the covers tighter around herself, not even deigning to turn around and spare me a glare. “Those things are death traps. If I thought you were smarter, I would think you’re only keeping those around to collect life insurance on me.” 

I felt the sting in my chest and curled my fist under the blankets.  _ This bitch. _ But if I said anything out loud, June would just start up again. So I stayed silent until I heard our youngest’s footsteps move away from our door and back down the hallway to her room. I couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh as her door quietly shut. The poor girl had the front seat to all of our arguments now since our oldest, her sister, moved out to her own apartment. It certainly didn’t help how she was feeling, I knew, but since we’d been together for nearly 30 years now, June knew nearly everything about me- and definitely how to rope me into a fight I didn’t want to have. 

June had stilled beside me, but I couldn’t help but reach out to her again. My hands stayed to myself, now folded across my chest, and I was staring at the ceiling and watching lights from the street move across the dark when I opened my mouth again. 

“Do you think we’ve been good parents?” My voice came out small and child-like. June moved, then stopped. I heard her hair shifting against the pillow like wind across fields when she looked over her shoulder, just barely, sparing me a small glance. Scraps to a beggar. 

“Why?” She asked with a suspicious edge to her voice. 

In the dark, I could not answer. There were too many answers resting on my tongue. 

On the smaller side; had we done enough? Both of our gorgeous daughters, by way of pesky genetics, wanted to leave before their time. Our oldest took to therapy and her prescriptions like the lifeline they were for her. Our youngest never liked either, and now she’d grown, so there wasn’t much we could force her to do except remind her we loved her. 

But was it enough? Our intentions, we felt, were good. Hands-off seemed to be the closest we could get to recovery. We wished her freedom, a safer space,  _ but was it enough? _ Was it right not to push her? When would freedom become loneliness? Where was the line between safety and separation, isolation? Would June consider this philosophy with me?

“If you’re not going to speak, then shut up,” she bit at me before letting out an irritated  _ harrumph _ and stealing more covers. Of course. I was a fool for thinking there was anything left between us but a testy desire for convenience. Or maybe my drama was for one act, and she’d be happy enough to discuss it with me over coffee tomorrow. 

The door at the end of the hall opened again with a creaky whine. The hall light flicked on, shining under the door, and footsteps moved across the hardwood and back down the stairs. My dearest little one, off to throw her wrappers away for sure. I sighed to myself as I watched her shadow pass underneath the door.

What kind of species were humans? Honestly. Our awareness gave us responsibility for our purposes other animals couldn’t share. What kind of creatures were we, to bring other humans into the world when we didn’t always need them, knowing we’d leave them someday? That one day they’d be alone? 

Maybe we were all sadists. Or all masochists, saddled with the possibility they wouldn’t make it that far. Perhaps the fairest way would be to lay down and go together. 

_ Silly me, _ I thought to myself as I closed my eyes. The light shining behind my eyelids dimmed, and I felt June’s breathing deepening at my side. She’d been angry until she passed out, for sure. Her unhappiness was deepening at my side as well, I knew. These years together had spiraled into something less than happily after ever, for both of us. 

My eyes flew open with a start when I heard the cars turning on in the garage. The light under the door had gone out, but our youngest’s footsteps were pounding up the stairs and flying into her room. No one to drive a car, but still on. Why?  _ Why? _

Smoke was floating up from under the door. Dark grey and waving, like June’s hair, like old exhaust. I stared at it, watched it float up and curl around the dips and peaks in the popcorned ceiling.  _ One to three minutes, _ I remembered from an old article. One to three minutes before the blackness became eternal. June, beside me, was still asleep. Something was rooting me to my bed. I could have jumped up and kicked the door open. Woke June up, run to my daughter, turn the cars off, try again, try tomorrow. 

But could I promise tomorrow?  _ Probably less than a minute left now. _ Could I promise her that tomorrow would be better? That I might not die of a heart attack and leave her alone, or that she might get her choice of when and how to go taken away from her by a drunk driver? Could I promise her any of that, and not end with us all cursing whoever had brought us here?

Our existence, at this moment, was born of selfishness.  _ Thirty seconds maximum. _ My parents wouldn’t have understood this notion and weren’t alive to be made to understand. Nor to be held responsible, but I, I was laying here in bed, staring at my reckoning. Outside, my youngest was holding me to my selfishness, and what could I do in the face of her resignation, refusal to be held to anything I’d done? 

Nothing. So I just breathed in.

And breathed out. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe. 

**Author's Note:**

> Went to go see this movie today. Very weird, and also more suicide than I expected (I looked up trigger warnings before seeing the film and thought it was going to end with her family :') ), so I whipped this up to let my thoughts out- as such, is most likely of poorer, rambling quality. Apologies.


End file.
